


the start of an era

by theprodigypenguin



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gen, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, No Romance, Underage Drinking, benn unwittingly becomes a father, benn: why is this fifteen year old getting drunk in a bar i should do something, fight me about it, the age difference fits, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprodigypenguin/pseuds/theprodigypenguin
Summary: The formation of the Red-Hair Pirates.Or in which Shanks watches one father die and is promptly adopted by someone else after getting drunk in a bar.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Benn Beckmann, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Gol D. Roger
Comments: 7
Kudos: 156





	the start of an era

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this on a whim, enjoy.

At the back of his mind, Shanks had been expecting at least one of the crew to be at this bar. Considering whose name was emblazoned on the sign hanging above the door, and what had happened just hours previously, the fifteen year old had hoped in the empty depths of his soul that he’d see someone familiar.

The bar was packed alright, but as Shanks surveyed the patrons, he was pained to find the only one he recognized was the barkeeper. At the very least, the older man was kind to him. He let the young teen sit at a shaded table in the corner, passing him tankards of rum and ale without questioning his age. Maybe he knew it wouldn’t matter. Maybe he realized that if  _ he  _ didn’t serve the swordsman, then Shanks would just go wandering into the bars that  _ did  _ give him alcohol.

Better to keep the kid under watchful eye while he got himself wasted. It wasn’t as if Shanks had never consumed alcohol before, he was a pirate after all, but he’d never been this despondent. He’d never wanted to get this drunk. He’d never knocked back this much liquor with the sole point of losing consciousness, trying his hardest to not think. Or remember. Or anything.

The rain was coming down in a roar outside. It poured against the roof like a melody that matched the misery Shanks was letting consume him. Until recently, Buggy had been with him, but as the crowd dispersed from around the execution platform, his friend had headed a different direction.

“Where are you going?” Shanks had asked, grabbing Buggy by the elbow. “Come with me!”

“I already told you I’m not joining your crew!” Buggy had snapped back, glaring at Shanks from over his shoulder. “I’m no one’s subordinate!” The pain had been evident in his eyes, but Shanks could only watch him disappear into the crowd.

Truthfully, that had been the last thing on Shanks’ mind. The two of them had stayed together for the past year out of necessity, because it was dangerous on the seas for the remnants of Rogers' crew. That day, though, Shanks already knew Buggy would probably leave. He knew it, but couldn’t he have waited a day? Their captain had just died, after all, Buggy didn’t have to make himself mourn alone. Or maybe it was just Shanks who didn’t want to be alone…

He wondered when he’d see Buggy next. How long they’d be apart. Shanks already missed him, his sworn brother who he’d spent so many years beside. Being separated like this, though it made sense, merely added to the hurt that Shanks was experiencing. He hadn’t felt this lonely in years.

The alcohol burned his mouth as Shanks threw his head back to empty the last bit. He felt the hat on his head slip, startling him enough to nearly spit the ale. He quickly swallowed the mouthful and lifted a hand to grip the straw hat, pushing it down more securely onto his head. Everything was so numb that he barely felt the course material beneath his fingertips. Whether it was the alcohol or the sorrow stealing his ability to feel anything, Shanks didn’t care. He ensured his precious hat would stay in place, then pushed the tankard to the edge of the table in a sign that it was empty and could he please maybe get a fill up because that would be great.

While waiting, Shanks folded his arms on the table, burying his head and clawing his nails into his elbows. The bit of pain raised him from his stupor just enough to bring out a memory. It wasn’t an old one, occurring only a year ago. Shanks could still feel the sun on his face, the cord of his straw hat stuck to his throat as the hat hung against his upper back. He could still feel the sweat and the sting of tears that he refused to cry, because this _wasn’t_ goodbye and it _wasn’t_ sad.

“Can’t I go with you?” he’d asked on a murmur, feeling about as childish as he probably sounded. “I mean, I understand why we all have to split up, for safety, but I don’t see a problem with me going with you!”

Roger barked a familiar laugh, arms folded across his chest and eyes screwed shut. It was a laugh Shanks had heard a million times, one he would normally share, but he didn’t feel like laughing just then. His hands curled into tight fists and his lips twisted into a scowl that he expertly hid with a pout.

“I could still use some training!” He insisted through his captain’s laughter. “My Haki is juvenile at best, and my swordwork is sloppy, I still don’t know nearly as much as I’d like about navigation, and —”

“What on earth are you talking about?!” Roger burst out. “Juvenile? Sloppy? What kind of insult are you trying to give to your teacher?”

Shanks flushed in shame. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just —”

“I’ve been training you for how long?” Roger asked, unfolding his arms to place his hands on his hips, leaning towards Shanks. “You can give every man with a sword on our crew a run for their money, even Rayleigh needs to imbue his weapon with Haki as a precaution when sparring you! You’re a protege and a natural, and your Haki is some of the strongest I’ve seen. You’re how old and you’ve already unlocked Armament and Observation? Yet you have the gal to claim you need more training from me?”

Shanks felt flustered and uncomfortable at the praise, rubbing his sweaty palms against his pants. “Well — I mean — I’m not nearly as good as you yet.”

“Shanks,” Roger was practically glowing with pride, “I’ve taught you everything I know. There’s nothing else for me to show you. All you need now is time to mature your skills. Your talents grow with your mind, not just your body. I’m not worried at all.”

“Of course you have more to teach me! I still have so much I can learn from you!”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Shanks must have taken too long to answer, because Roger began to laugh again.

“I’m serious!” Shanks waved his arms. “You still haven’t taught me everything about Conqueror's Haki!”

“Yeah I have,” Roger corrected. “It’s still a bit underdeveloped, so you can’t control it completely and need to be careful when you try to use it, but skill with Haki comes with time and internal training. You don’t need me to hold your hand through everything, you’ve already proven you’re capable on your own.”

“But —”

“You’re not my apprentice anymore, Shanks,” Roger said, but he did so fondly. “You’ve surpassed all my expectations, and I can only imagine how great you’ll do in the future if you stay on this path.”

Panic went through Shanks like a lightning strike, and though he didn’t want to admit this, he blurted it out anyway. “I heard you talking with Crocus and Rayleigh!”

Roger looked puzzled. “Well considering they’re my doctor and first mate, I do tend to talk with them once in a while.”

“I know you’re sick!” Shanks blurted, regretting it when he saw Rogers' face go dark. He quickly tried to explain himself, his palms sweating for a different reason than the heat. “I — I just… I overheard you all talking… and now you’re making us all split up. What’s gonna happen to you?” The last bit he asked in a soft voice.

Roger stared at him for a long time, long enough that Shanks was getting ready to apologize and beg him not to be angry. Then Roger laughed, and Shanks was the one who felt angry.

“It’s not funny!”

He grunted when Roger slapped a hand on his back a few times. “Is that what this is all about?!” He asked, chuckling. “I’m lucky to have such a kindhearted student!”

“Captain!”

“Shanks!” Roger grabbed the straw hat, lifting it and smashing it down on Shanks’ head, dipping the rim low and leaning down again to reach the teen’s level. “Listen for a minute, would you? You didn’t mishear, but the thing is, I’ve been sick for a while. Did that stop me from going out on the sea and causing as much mayhem as I could? Not even once! I’m not afraid of death. I’ve never been afraid of death.”

Shanks lifted his hands, curling his fingers around the rim of his hat to keep it over his eyes. “I wish you would be sometimes,” he mumbled. “You’re reckless and make everyone worry, and you’ve been sick the whole time too.”

“Reckless? Me? Who told you that rubbish? Was it Rayleigh? Oh I’m gonna have to have a talk with him later!”

Shanks fought against the smile that made his lips tremble, his shoulders hunching and his head ducking lower.

“There’s something to be said about acknowledging your mortality and recognizing that any day could be your last,” Roger said, holding his chin. “Then again, I wasn’t all that scared of death before I got sick either, so maybe I _am_ just stupid and reckless.”

Shanks lifted the rim of his hat to look up at Roger. “Don’t let Rayleigh hear you say that. He’ll never let you live it down.”

Roger deflated. “Damn, you’re right about that.”

“But it’s bad… isn’t it?” Shanks stared at Roger, hoping to find some hint as to what the man was thinking. Even if he lied, maybe Shanks would be able to pick up on it.

“My definition of bad isn’t the same as the doctors,” Roger said diplomatically, and Shanks stifled the desire to kick him in the shin by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, glaring at his captain in irritation. “Would you believe me if I told you I was happy, whatever happened? I set out to do something, and I did it. I did exactly what I wanted to do, and I’m beyond satisfied.” Roger lifted his head, staring up at the sky with a smile on his face. “Right now, however long I may have left, I’d like to spend it somewhere peaceful.”

“You’re gonna stop being a pirate?” Shanks asked in disbelief, and the smile turned into a grin.

“Whoa there, kid. When did I say that?” Roger held a finger up. “Let me make this clear. I’m a pirate. I’ll always be a pirate. No amount of illness or living on land will ever change that. I lived as a pirate and I’ll die as a pirate, exactly as I want!” He dropped his hand, and his smile became soft. “I do have somewhere I’d like to go, though, and it’s not the sea this time. I’ve conquered every inch of the ocean. I want a different challenge now!”

“Can’t I go with you?” Shanks asked again. “I can help. Whatever the challenge is, I can definitely help; and if you get sicker I can help you with that too!”

“You want me to drag you to an island located who knows where to watch me die when you could be sailing the waves with a crew all your own?” Roger asked, setting his hands on his hips again. “The last thing I want to do is get in the way of your future. My time on the seas is done, but you’re an energetic young lad. You’re more at home on a ship than anyone I’ve ever seen. The ocean was made for you. You were born to sail it, Shanks, and I’m not gonna be the one to deter you from it.”

The knot in Shanks’ throat was getting bigger, but he tried to swallow around it anyway. “What about you?”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I already have somewhere to go.” The smile took on that same unexpected gentleness that Shanks never saw on his captain. As if he was thinking fondly of something or someone but didn’t want to reveal too much.

That would make sense of course. Roger was notorious now, after claiming the seas and being dubbed the Pirate King. Wherever he went, people couldn’t know who he was. It would be far too dangerous for him, and for anyone who decided to help him. Which was likely why he was so adamant about Shanks doing his own thing.

It wasn’t like he had a bounty. No one really knew who Shanks was, and they certainly didn’t know he was an apprentice on Roger’s crew. For now, Shanks was safe from the Navy, but if he followed Roger wherever the man planned to go, then there was no telling how long it would be before he was being hunted for simply being connected to the infamous captain. Roger was trying to ensure his crew was safe before leaving. Just like he always did.

“I wish I had something more profound to say to you,” Roger admitted.

Shanks shook his head, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. “It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

The teen shook his head again, sniffing, telling himself it was the air and not the sting in his eyes that was making it run. “I’m not mad.”

“Good. I’d feel bad if we split up on bad terms.” Or so he said, but that grin of his never faltered. “I want you to understand that I have no regrets regarding how I’ve lived,” Roger set a hand on Shanks’ head, on top of the straw hat, “and I’m proud of how far you’ve come in your training. Even if I won’t be around to see you grow, I already know you’re going to do great things, and I’m already proud of you for what you haven’t succeeded in yet. I’m preemptively proud of you. Is that irresponsible of me?”

Shanks rubbed his nose harder, squinting his eyes as if that would help keep the tears in.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m not!”

Roger laughed, dropping his hand to squeeze Shanks’ shoulder. “I want you to promise me something. One final promise to your captain. Whatever happens, you stay safe until you know for certain you can handle yourself. Whatever happens, do not, under any circumstances, overreact.”

Shanks felt uncomfortable at the words. “What does that mean? Overreact to what?”

“Whatever happens. Promise me. Promise you’ll stay safe and stay under the radar.”

Roger looked uncharacteristically serious as he spoke, and it was putting Shanks more and more on edge as he played the words over in his head a few times. He couldn’t very well say no, though, especially not to his captain. So he swallowed hard and nodded.

“I promise.”

“Good lad,” Roger squeezed Shanks’ shoulder again, turning away and tugging the sides of his coat before securing the hat on his head. “You’re aiming to be a captain, aren’t you? I probably shouldn’t say this, since after today I won’t be yours, but wait a bit before seeking a crew. Just a bit. Maybe a year. Let things calm down until the Navy’s not as up in arms about us. This plays into your promise to stay safe, remember.”

“I don’t mind,” Shanks decided, “I can wait. I want to perfect my Observation Haki at least before I try to make my own crew!”

That earned another laugh, and Shanks grinned. “Bold of you to assume you haven’t already become a master!”

“Isn’t it bad to overestimate myself?” Shanks tested. “Rayleigh says being overconfident is dangerous.”

“Oh, well he’s smart, maybe you should listen to him,” Roger hummed, sounding entirely serious. “After the year is up and things are back to normal, go find yourself a good crew. You’ll know when the time is right, you’re smart too. Go find a crew and conquer the seas after me.”

“I don’t want to be the Pirate King,” Shanks blanched, and Roger nearly doubled over, he was laughing so much.

“There’s more than one way to conquer the ocean, Shanks!”

“Well you don’t have to laugh at me!”

Roger looked back at him, his grin blinding, one hand holding the black pirate hat in place. “I’ve done my part to turn the world upside down. I pass my will to you now. Be sure to make a mess of things while I’m gone, would you?”

Shanks’ lips twisted into a deeper pout, yanking the rim of the hat down over his face as if it would keep Roger from seeing his tears. He nodded his head, giving a noise of confirmation because he couldn’t speak around the knot in his throat.

That was the last time Shanks saw his captain. The last time they were able to talk. He spent a year laying low with Buggy, secretly training and getting stronger. They took shelter in Loguetown acting as errand boys for various businesses. It was Shanks’ idea to go there, because it was Roger’s hometown, so maybe they’d run into him. That was a silly hope, though. The last place he would show up was where he was born.

Then the fated news announcing the Pirate King’s execution. Shanks read it in the paper and stopped breathing. He kept seeing Roger’s smile, kept hearing his final words. 

_ “I lived as a pirate and I’ll die as a pirate, exactly as I want!” _

Well, he certainly did.

Rogers turned himself in. Maybe his illness was getting worse, and he didn’t want to become a withering crust of the man he used to be. So he chose execution instead.  At the height of his glory, Rogers chose the most dramatic way to go out he possibly could. Rather than dying of a terminal illness, he chose a death fitting for the King of Pirates. He died with a rueful smile on his face, after successfully flipping the Navy and the World Government one last middle finger. Despite being weighed down with chains, Rogers died freer than any man could hope to be.

Shanks cried. Already in Loguetown with Buggy at his side, he held his hat over his eyes and blended into the crowd to watch, tears falling like he’d never cried before. His captain’s final order to not overreact made sense now. He’d planned to die like this all along; that was why he made Shanks promise not to overreact or make a scene, because he wanted to. He wanted so badly to start screaming and crying on his knees while the crowd around him roared their cheers of victory.

Yet he’d made a promise, and he would keep it. Slinking into _Gold Roger’s_ bar and taking the most inconspicuous table he could find to drink himself dumb.

He could start looking for a crew as soon as the pain had subsided a little. As soon as he didn’t feel the need to drink alcohol to keep from falling apart. He could wait a week. That was enough time to mourn, wasn’t it? Then he could sober himself up and set out. He’d make a mess of the world just like he said he would and carry Roger’s will until he found someone worthy of it. However long it would take.

Shanks flinched a bit and lifted his head when he heard the sound of a tankard being set on the table. Bleary eyes raised up, barely registering an unfamiliar man standing beside the table. He was tall, holding a lit cigarette in one hand, the other still around the tankard handle he’d set on the table.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Me?” Shanks ventured for clarity, rubbing the dry tears from his eyes and sitting up halfway from his hunched position. “Fifteen.”

This didn’t seem to sit well with the man, who frowned and furrowed his brow. “And you’re drinking?”

Shanks couldn’t help the grin that felt a little off kilter, a little crooked. He wondered what kind of feral expression he was making to make the man frown even more.

“I wasn’t aware there was a drinking age for pirates.”

“Ha,” it wasn’t really so much a laugh as it was an attempt at fanning amusement. The man put the cigarette between his lips, staring down at Shanks with a sharp gaze. “Kids going around talking about piracy and it hasn’t even been a day since the King died.”

Shanks giggled drunkenly at that, bemused and delighted at the respectful way the stranger referred to Rogers. Then again, he was drinking in a bar named for him. He probably wouldn’t be here if he thought lowly of the man, would he?

“I’m already a pirate,” Shanks revealed. “I was an apprentice on a ship until recently. I’ve been a pirate for most of my life.”

“Your long fifteen years,” the man drawled with an obvious tone of sarcasm.

It almost seemed like Shanks was getting berated or scolded by someone, which was brilliantly amusing. Shanks giggled more, unable to get out a decent laugh in the state he was in. Really all he could do was giggle and snicker. He was too drunk to do anything else. Honestly though, this stranger was coming up to Shanks to give him a talking to for drinking when he was too young? That was funny.

“Yeah? How old are you then?”

“Old enough to drink,” the man responded as smoke curled from the end of his cigarette, lifting his tankard as if to emphasize it.

Shanks pointed at him. “That’s not an answer. You look like you’re, what, mid forties?”

The man’s brow twitched. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Oh that  _ is  _ old,” Shanks giggled. “You’re  _ so  _ old.”

His visitor looked even more ticked off than before, turning and holding an arm out to stop the barkeeper when he was passing by. “Hey, you know this kid’s fifteen? Why are you serving him alcohol?”

The barkeeper looked flustered. “I — well — I mean yes, I know he’s young, but… considering the circumstances, I didn’t see an issue. I’d rather him drink here than some shady bar where the marines might find him.”

The stranger chewed on the end of his cigarette thoughtfully and Shanks groaned, pushing the rim of his hat back so he had a full view of him.

“What do you care if I’m drinking? I’m a pirate and pirates drink. Am I bothering anyone by being here?”

“It’s the morality of it really,” the man muttered around his cigarette. “Pirate or not, drinking at fifteen is a bit much.”

“I’ve been drinking far longer than that,” Shanks pushed. “I told you, I was a pirate apprentice on an _actual_ pirate ship.”

“And your captain is the kind of man to let you drink as a child?”

Shanks’ lips trembled. He wasn’t sure if he was about to laugh or cry, but he laid with his cheek against the wood of the table, holding the edges of his hat to keep his face hidden. “Heh. He got mad the first time, because we took the good sake. We were only gonna have a cup, Buggy and me, to swear an oath of brotherhood. Then we ended up drinking all of it. Captain was so mad. He made us scrub the deck on our hands and knees as punishment. Wouldn’t let us use a mop. It was a  _ big  _ ship, it took us  _ ages.” _

“Where’s he now then? Your captain? I bet he wouldn’t want you drinking alone in a bar like this. No offense.”

“It’s fine,” the barkeep mumbled, shuffling away.

Shanks was frowning, staring out the gap between the rim of his hat and the table. There was an impressive firearm at the stranger’s waist.

“He’s dead now,” Shanks said simply, not giving further explanation as he sat up, grinning, holding his hat on his head with both hands. “I was going to start gathering my own crew now! I’ll be captain of course. I’ll start my own pirate crew!”

“Said the drunk fifteen year old,” the man said through a puff of smoke.

Shanks looked up at him brightly, beaming. “Hey, you look really strong, yeah? You can use that gun of course? Why not join my crew?”

The man looked taken aback, probably not expecting this inebriated child to start spouting off about being a pirate captain. He certainly hadn’t been expecting an invitation to join said inebriated child’s crew.

“How drunk are you exactly?”

“I’m strong, so you don’t have to worry,” Shanks assured, picking his sword from where he’d had it leaning against the wall. “My captain trained me, so I’m plenty capable of protecting my crew.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Shanks frowned at the man, feeling mildly irritated. “If a captain can’t protect his own crew, then he’s not a captain.” He looked down at his sword then, not noticing the way the stranger tightened his grip on his tankard, biting the cigarette until it bent.

“Why are you so intent on being a pirate?” He pulled out the chair across from Shanks, sitting down. “Don’t you know what just happened? Who was executed here? What he said?”

Shanks frowned, playing with the sheath of his precious weapon. “I know.”

“People are going to be flocking to the seas now. People who have powers and strength beyond reason. People with strange abilities, and you know where they’re going? The Grand Line. They call it the Pirates Graveyard for a reason. Do you think you can survive on that sea?”

Shanks smiled, settling his sword against his shoulder and lifting his head just enough to peer out at his companion. “Why not? If I have a good crew on my side, I can do anything.”

The man pulled the cigarette from his mouth. “So you think you can conquer that sea and become the next Pirate King, huh?”

Shanks let his smile pull into a grin, lifting his head higher to show off his full face. “My goal isn’t to become the next Pirate King.”

The man looked taken off guard at the admittance, holding the cigarette at his mouth but letting it hang in his fingers. “What’s your goal then?”

“Hm. I dunno yet. First things first, I need a crew,” Shanks said thoughtfully, staring just over the man’s head at where Roger’s wanted poster was still hanging proudly on the wall there. “After that, I want to go on as many adventures as I can. Make a name for myself and enjoy the ride. I want to live a life I actually  _ want  _ to remember.”

The man took a final drag off his cigarette before stumping it out against the table. “Not what I was expecting to hear, I’ll admit. I was waiting to hear something along the lines of desiring power, status and money. That’s all everyone’s been talking about.” He waved towards the rest of the bar.

Shanks hadn’t been paying much attention to the other patrons before, since he’d been too immersed in his own pain, but the interior of the bar was filled to bursting. Men and women were crowding around singing and cheering. They were celebrating the confirmation of the One Piece’s existence, whooping and hollering about their good fortunes. Roger was barely a day dead, and people were clawing for his spot at the top.

It was demented, and Shanks felt mildly sick (or maybe that was the alcohol roiling in his stomach), but at the same time he couldn’t help smiling.

“I wonder how many of these people I’ll see on the Grand Line,” he wondered aloud.

The man across from him scoffed as he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and sticking it between his lips before striking a match against the grain of the bar table. “You seem like a good hearted kid, if not a little unorthodox — I’m still not entirely fond of seeing a child getting drunk in a bar like this.”

Shanks frowned at him. “Well smoking is bad for you too, but you don’t see me nagging about it.”

The man held his eye for a moment, letting the match burn out before taking the unlit cigarette slowly from his mouth. “How strong did you say you were again?”

“I didn’t,” Shanks admitted, tapping his sword, “but I could fight equal with most of the swordsmen in the crew. I couldn’t beat my captain, and I could barely keep up with the first mate, but I can hold my own. I know Haki too.”

“Haki.”

“Yeah. Have you heard of it?” Shanks leaned over the table. “Since you’re asking that means you’re considering joining me, right? What do you say? It’ll be fun!”

“Pirating will be fun?”

“Yeah!”

The man rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Why am I listening to a kid about this…” he looked back at Shanks. “You’re not the first person who’s tried to recruit me, just saying. A few people have seen me, thought I looked strong, and asked me to join them. Not even a day has gone by and people are trying to form pirate crews right off the bat. They’re planning on heading straight for the Grand Line from here.”

“That seems silly,” Shanks decided. “I wanted to sail here a bit more, look around East Blue. I was born in the West Blue, but I want to sail around this sea before heading to the Grand Line.”

“A competent decision.”

“Well I’m not in a hurry,” Shanks smiled. “I can take my time. It might take me a while to get a good crew, and I think it would be better to lay low until all of this calms down a little. It’ll be easier to get into the Grand Line when the navy isn’t waiting for us pirates to flood into it. I’ve already waited a year, I can wait a little longer. Plus, I need to get a good ship! Something dependable that can carry my crew anywhere we want!”

The man sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. “Jeeze…”

“So what do you say?” Shanks pressed on, beaming. “Do you want to join my crew? Oh, I’m Shanks by the way.”

The man pulled his hand away, staring at Shanks for a moment before tucking his cigarette back between his lips. “Benn Beckman,” he introduced, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. “Never thought about being a pirate before,” he admitted, watching Shanks before closing his eyes. “Well. First time for everything. It’s not like I have a life here I need to worry about.”

Shanks brightened up at that, grinning so large that it was almost blinding. “Benn Beckman! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, a pleasure.” He looked up when the bartender paused beside the table, holding a hand up. “Hang on, he’s drunk enough. Get him water or something.”

Shanks fixed Benn with a steely glare. “Just confirming but I am the captain here.”

“And you’re fifteen,” Benn said. “Not to mention already more than wasted. You can do without another tankard.”

“I’m drinking for a reason,” Shanks said numbly, barely registering the way his new crewmate tensed. “It’s not like I drink alone for fun.”

The smoke curled around Benn’s face for a quiet moment as he considered his words. “I see.” He pulled the cigarette from his lips, breathing out a line of smoke. “I expect you have money for all the alcohol then.”

“Oh, no, I don’t have any money,” Shanks laughed, and Benn snapped his cigarette in half. “I mean I did, I’ve been working in town as an errand boy, but my brother Buggy swiped it all after the execution. I wasn’t paying attention, and I didn’t really care.”

“So you were going to drink and dash?”

“Well, like I said, I’m not in a rush. I would’ve stayed and worked off what I owed, until things settled down and I could sail out without people watching me too closely. Now I have you though! I’m lucky!”

Benn’s brow twitched again and he shut his eyes, putting the cigarette back in his mouth despite the fact it was broken and useless. “I get the feeling you’re going to be a handful.”

“My old captain’s first mate told me that all the time!” Shanks said gleefully, and Benn sighed, digging out a few Beli as well as a new cigarette.

“He still out there?”

“Yeah, somewhere on the Grand Line probably. We’ll run into him eventually.”

“Good,” Benn lit his cigarette, pushing the new tankard of ale over to Shanks. “I can ask him for advice then. For now, I’m supervising your drinking. After tonight, you’re limited on alcohol.”

“What? How is that fair?”

“Because you’re fifteen, I’m far older than you, and whether you're the captain or not, I’d rather not follow a drunk infant.”

Shanks looked more pouty than genuinely upset, however. He was too pleased to have gotten his first crew member, and though he could still feel the rock of emotional pain stuck in his stomach, he smiled through his last tankard, and didn’t argue when Benn ordered him water for the rest of the night. Despite everything, Shanks didn’t feel lonely anymore, and he could only be grateful for that.


End file.
